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I am probably going to kill myself this year, and I don't really know when, but I feel it's going to happen. I have nothing going for me in my life as it is, yet the inescapable reality of collapse hovers over my mind like an unhappy raincloud, so I thought I'd post here in a vain hope that maybe someone has answers or insight, or some palpable sunshine.
Climate change (among a mazy amalgamation of other things) is most likely going to destroy everything we know and love, and unlike some people here I don't yearn to live in a post-apocalyptic, mad-maxian hell. I do not wish to witness the inevitable traumas of a broken world, in all its callous, depraved brutality. I would not want to face one of such thoroughgoing uncertainty, where I would have to constantly fear for my loved ones, ceaselessly struggling every day in vain desperation against the pitiless weight of degeneration.
And I really am sorry if I don't feel "privileged" to live during this time in history. Quizzically, I do not find it exciting, and for some uncanny reason I cannot think of it as just being this "interesting" plot point, not when there are very real lives at stake. Maybe I feel too much, but that some people only ever answer with cynicism and unkindness is frustrating - maybe it helps some, but it doesn't work for me. So, I do not relish the sadistic challenge of survival, and no amount of fighter's resilience, monk's presentness, nor structural animosity towards the elite will help me reckon with it at all (even if they are jerks).
It's all too late to turn away anyway, we're on the road we're on. All I ever wanted was a quiet, peaceful life. A happy one, spent among friends and loved ones… A rich and joyful life lived to its fullest. No alarms, no surprises. Even so, anxiety and depression have trailed me all my adolescent and adult life, and I doubt they will let go of me anytime soon. Relief never comes, does it? Nothing ever, ever gets better… So if the future holds only more trouble and more strife, I don't think I want to see things through. :)
Sorry to be melodramatic. Thanks for putting up with my post I guess.
edit: phrasing
I feel called to respond to you, and know that this comes from a place of self-recognition, and compassion.
You have too many layers between you and reality. Reading your post is threading ones' way through projections, disclaimers, ironies, irony acknowledgements; a general assortment of metatangential references.
You experience yourself (mostly accurately) as aware of all relevant data and, based on the information you've gathered, the conclusions you're left with appear self-evident.
That assumption, something akin to feeling you've arrived at the inevitable end of a mechanical process, is the root of your despair.
This process (your life) is not as predictable as you believe. Strange things can happen that you never would have imagined. People change. Are born again.
How you get there will be unique to you. If you are genuinely considering suicide, you should be able to let go for once, if you can manage a flicker of curiosity. Find out what happens when you stop managing your certainty so relentlessly.
So the way may be a goal. A relationship. A psychedelic foray. The way may be religion. The way may be terrible suffering. I personally find my way through art and music.
It is your path to uncover, and follow, and there will be agony at times. There will be moments of bliss as well. Be well fellow traveller. A warm heart for you in this moment.
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